


Vanishing Liberty

by tuesdayfic (tuesday)



Category: Hikaru no Go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-21
Updated: 2009-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesdayfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Akira's parents attempt to play matchmaker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vanishing Liberty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/hng_deathmatch/profile)[](http://community.livejournal.com/hng_deathmatch/)**hng_deathmatch** a long while back for the prompt "atari," pretty much at the very last minute. As in, I realized the same day it was due that I'd forgotten about it. There's your warning! The plus is that I still had the version before google docs destroyed random spaces. So there's that.

Akira stared out the lobby window, watching rain patter lightly against the glass and appreciating this brief moment of respite. It was nearly the end of March, and cherry blossoms clogged the gutters even here. He could only imagine what Ueno Park and its long path of cherry trees looked like at the moment. It was a season of change, and though Akira knew he had few paths left open to him, he couldn't bring himself to regret too badly the sameness of his days.

Mostly, Akira was happy with his life. More than happy. He had his go, he had worthwhile opponents, and though it might seem quiet, overly focused, he was more than content to see time march steadily forward alongside his progressing skill.

It helped that he had company on his chosen road.

"Touya," came Shindou's voice, as if just a thought could summon him. "Come on, the match is starting soon."

Akira smiled gently, because it was a rare day Shindou was on time, and a rarer one that Akira was the one who had to be chided to hurry. It had little to do, he reassured himself, with Shindou clutching his wrist as though they were still children, tugging him away from the building and toward the elevator. And if, when Shindou let Akira's hand drop, he felt the absence of warm fingers clasped against his skin, it was understandable. Anyone could appreciate some small closeness with the person most likely to be one's opposite on the climb to the Hand of God.

Akira was quite contented with how things were. It would be silly to think he wanted anything more.

—

"Yes, Father?"

Unlike many others who had reached the age of twenty-two, Akira had yet to move out of his parents' house. Even Shindou had moved into the same apartment complex as Waya, though Akira suspected Shindou had done so to be on the same train line as the Institute. Being only a few stops down with no train changes had certainly made a difference in the past year on his timeliness. Shindou did occasionally come skidding into the room with only minutes to spare, but he didn't cut it so close as to only have seconds, and had not once been late or forfeited a match since living on his own. Waya might also be a factor, Akira conceded. Akira couldn't help but feel a pang of envy, but it was easily brushed aside.

Yes, he lived with his parents, but he still experienced a remarkable amount of latitude in his coming and going. Since retiring, Akira's father spent a great deal of time traveling, and Akira's mother always accompanied him. It was not often that his parents were around, and less often still that they seemed to have anything more serious to speak with him about than inquiring how he was holding up participating in so many tournaments and taking on so many tutoring positions, both close to home and at conferences. They trusted him, but Akira also occasionally caught a look of worry in his mother's eyes, barely allayed by reassurances that Shindou wouldn't let him collapse and would drag him out for a few games of go if Akira looked overly strained.

Today, however, it seemed they had more to speak with him about than reassurances and offers to take him on their travels.

"I'd like you to look at this folder," his father said. He caught Akira's mother's gaze, then said, "Rather, we would."

Akira was as much the dutiful son as he could be. He tried not to let Shindou or his friends drive him to ridiculous actions in public, at least not that often. He tried to show his best in all of his games. Whenever his parents made a request of him, which was almost never, Akira tried to in the very least consider that request.

"You have to be kidding," Akira said with a fit of passion that would have done Shindou proud.

Then again, Akira wasn't _perfect_.

"We've carefully considered," his mother said, smiling despite Akira's outburst. "She's a lovely girl, and I think she would suit your temperament."

Akira was determined not to wave his hands as Shindou might, concentrating instead on keeping his voice steady. "I appreciate your consideration, but I have no interest in an arranged marriage."

A small voice, much like Shindou's, spoke fervently in the back of his mind. _Are you_ crazy, the voice said. _This is the twenty-first century!_

Akira ignored it. His father insistently slid the folder forward, across the table. He gave Akira a look that said, quite plainly, that the least Akira could do was look. No guarantees, just a quick glance through. Taking deep breaths, Akira picked the folder up and did so.

She was a very pretty girl. "Takamura Akiko," the file read. She liked beaches, the view from the Keio department store in Shinjuku at Christmas time, and had a small interest in go, though only as a hobby. Her smile in the picture was not demure, but bright, rather like Shindou after telling some ridiculous story. Her smooth hair was held back from her face with two butterfly clips on either side.

"I appreciate your consideration," Akira repeated as he closed the file and pushed it firmly back across the table. "I am far too busy for any arranged meeting."

"Surely you could make time if you were interested," his mother said. She looked thoughtful, not disappointed.

"Surely I could," Akira agreed. "If you'll excuse me, I think I have a tutoring session soon."

Akira didn't make a habit of lying to his parents. All the same, he felt very little guilt texting Shindou once he'd reached the train station.

Shindou gave his usual enthusiastic reply, that though he was finishing up a study session, of course he would meet Akira at a go parlor. He warned, though Akira could picture his wide smile, that Akira had better prepare himself for a sound thrashing. Akira found a smile of his own spreading across his lips. They were meeting halfway across town, but thinking about strategy and the kifu Shindou had mentioned he would be studying, it seemed hardly any time passed at all.

—

 

Akira's parents went on two more trips, one to China, one to South Korea. In between, they gave him five more folders for consideration, all rejected. He and Shindou played too many games to keep track of, much less who was currently in the lead, though Akira was sure that it was still himself, because Shindou hadn't won _that_ many games in the past year. They spent most of their extra time together, and each time Akira fled his parents' forays into his love life, he usually ended up at Shindou's door, or at least at a go parlor together, though Akira kept the folders carefully tucked away in his briefcase. His parents' insistence that Akira was getting older, and it was only a few years until he was twenty-five, and didn't he need someone to take care of him—all of these were not something Akira wanted to share with anyone, much less Shindou, who might tease him over it.

Akira focused on his go, which had always brought him his most joy. He played in two tournaments, one with Shindou, one without. Shindou didn't begrudge Akira the additional opportunity.

"I'll make it next year," Shindou said in a calm, sure voice Akira might not have expected of him five years ago. Even then, though, Akira would have believed him. In a more irritated voice, Shindou said, "I can't believe I let Ochi psych me out and win the qualification instead. _Ochi_. I'd have expected it of Ogata, but—"

"You never did tell me exactly what he said to you during break," Akira said. "You looked like you'd been jumped in an alleyway."

Shindou flushed. "Nothing!" He waved his hands. "Nothing important!"

Akira tried to communicate with a look how off-balance Shindou was just at the mention of it, so obviously it had to be at least somewhat important, but Shindou just pressed his lips together and glared off to the side. Akira placed a calming hand on Shindou's shoulder and said, "Whatever it is, you know you could talk to me, right?"

Though they'd started as rivals, Akira considered Shindou to be his closest friend.

Nevertheless, Shindou only flushed more and shook his head.

Akira let his hand drop. "Of course," he said, voice tight in the way only Shindou could evoke, "you're under no obligation to do so, either."

"Touya," Shindou said, with no small amount of exasperation, "I would tell you, but—"

"It's fine," Akira said, forcing his voice to flatness.

"No, it's not!" Shindou's glare was definitely directed entirely at Akira now. "And besides, it's not like you talk about things, either!"

"I do so," Akira said hotly. "Just last week, when I was worried about whether I could manage my schedule, I vented all my worry with you, you called me an idiot, and you took two of my tutoring sessions. I don't know anyone I depend on as much as I do you."

It wasn't an admission Akira would usually make, but he and Shindou didn't usually fight about anything outside of go. Even then, their arguments sometimes felt like their more heated games, and Shindou had that same ability to surprise him off the board as on.

"In your pro life, sure." Shindou's voice was slow, each word grated out. His fists were clenched, and he swallowed hard. Akira stared quietly and felt like he was missing something, some huge dance of stones closing around the center board. "But you never even thought to mention you were thinking about getting married."

All the breath left Akira at once. "I am not getting married." He rolled his eyes. "I don't know how you found out, I'm not interested in the pro gossip network, and I don't care. Whoever told you, they're wrong."

"The 'pro gossip network,' as you put it, is your _mom_," Shindou half-shouted, waving his hands.

For a moment, Akira wondered if Shindou was watching too much American media again. Then it sank in that no, Shindou was being literal. Akira buried his face in his hands and wondered if it were possible to explode of embarrassment.

"Well, both of your parents, really," Shindou said in a more settled voice, as if there could only be so much calm between them, and it was Shindou's turn now. "They asked if I knew anyone who might fit your parameters for a good spouse." His voice had brightened, as if—now that he was faced with Akira's mortification—he could finally see the humor of the situation.

"I can't believe this," Akira said.

"So you aren't on the prowl?" Shindou asked, and Akira could see, peeking between his fingers, Shindou's wide, wide smile, shining like his namesake. "We don't have to lock up all the women for fear of you carrying them away?"

"I hate you," Akira said. "I hate you a lot." Voice dry now, "And I highly doubt there is any woman out there in danger of my ardor."

"Any woman?" Shindou repeated.

"Any," Akira confirmed.

He wasn't sure why Shindou's grin turned wicked, like Akira had ceded part of the board and just didn't know it yet.

—

Summer turned to fall bled into winter. The air grew chill, and Akira took to going out with two scarves, one for himself, and one for Shindou, who couldn't remember to even put on a jacket, much less any other winter apparel. Akira suspected one day a station attendant would find him stuck to a pole, frozen while waiting for the train.

"I already have a bunch!" Shindou protested as they were leaving a newly opened go parlor in Shinjuku. "You should know, you've already given me like, twenty!"

"Then you should start wearing them," Akira said pointedly, looping the scarf around Shindou's neck several times and tucking the fringes in his thin sweater.

Shindou made a face, but accepted the scarf and the attention, as he'd accepted all the ones that had come before. He was shivering, though, and it was growing colder still as night drew down. They were already south of the station, and Akira tugged Shindou a few streets over so they passed the escalators up into the Keio department store. Something stirred in his memory, and Akira thought Shindou would appreciate the circus of lights on the boardwalk surrounding the second floor. Shindou would be distracted, and Akira could shove him into the Tokyu Hands before he noticed Akira was sizing him up for a hat and gloves.

Shindou's face lit up once they reached the boardwalk, and he pulled Akira forward with him, laughing and dodging through clumps of school children and couples out for a stroll. "I always forget about this," Shindou said, grin wild. "Look, they have a polar bear this year!"

Blues, reds, greens, and yellows danced across Shindou's face and clothing, and Akira found it difficult to look at the lights except in their reflections. Like this, Shindou was brilliantly happy. It almost hurt to look at him, but Akira couldn't draw his gaze away.

That didn't mean, though, that once they reached the end of the boardwalk, Akira forgot his cunning plan. Shindou would probably forget his new winter gear in the days to come, but for tonight, at least, he would be warm.

—

Spring drew around again, and Shindou was determined to have a proper party at Ueno park. Akira knew this, because Shindou scheduled a game at his place, and instead of dragging Akira to the goban upon opening the door, he propelled Akira back out of the apartment again before Akira could even try to take his shoes off.

"Waya's taking care of Isumi," Shindou said, "or he'd take the train with us."

"I love how ominous you make that sound," Akira said, resigning himself.

Shindou wrinkled his nose. "Don't make that face."

"What face?" Akira said, eying the bag Shindou carried in the hand not resting on Akira's shoulder. It was probably filled with alcohol, and at least part of it would likely be pressed on Akira.

"Like I have you in atari, and your only liberty is toward a wall."

Akira sighed. "I'm not—I'm not displeased with the party. I just hoped we might actually play a few games." His parents had stepped up their insistence on Akira attending at least _one_ meeting, if only he would choose one of their files. It might be better if they were upset at all of his rejections, but instead a calm surety seemed to settle over them. His mother kept giving his father these significant _looks_, and it was starting to drive Akira a bit crazy. All of that, and his schedule kept conflicting with Shindou's such that they hadn't seen each other in two weeks. Was it any wonder Akira felt weary, near irritable?

Shindou only smiled, drawing Akira closer with no care for any possible scandalized looks from other passersby. He breathed warm in Akira's ear, as though imparting a dear secret, "It's okay, I brought one of those magnetized travel go kits."

Akira couldn't help but huff out a small laugh, because this was Shindou. Of course everything was about go.

Despite the crowds, despite his prickly relationship with Waya, with whom Akira suspected he would never be completely at ease, despite yes, having three beers pressed upon him and no head for alcohol, Akira did have fun. The blossoms fell over head, tangling in Shindou's hair, and Akira won two out of three games, and would argue he only lost the third because of the third beer. At one point, Shindou dragged him half into his lap to make room for several other pros he'd befriended, and Akira fell into his shoulder, giggling at Shindou's ridiculous faux come-ons, something about Akira's face being twice as fair as any cherry blossom and his beauty lasting longer than any of the trees.

"Men are not beautiful," Akira snorted, covering his mouth against more laughter.

Shindou looked down, and for an instant, his face could almost be mistaken for serious, for a fondness of an entirely different sort than pure friendship. Akira's smile bled away, and he struggled not to swallow too obviously, to say anything too compromising.

Then the moment passed, and Shindou smiled. "Oh, I'm sorry, you're not beautiful. That's a grave injustice. You're _gorgeous_."

Waya smirked and said, "You're such a pretty princess."

"Ah ah," Shindou said, "I found him first. You'll have to find your own."

They laughed, and Akira stayed where he was a moment longer, smiling and staring at the cherry blossoms, trying not to hope too hard.

—

Only a few weeks later, his parents returned again from China, and this time they had only one folder for him. His mother's face was grave, but her lips kept twitching, as if she was struggling to hold back a smile. They had pulled the folder out after Akira had finally burst out that he wanted no more options, that he didn't care if he was nearly twenty-four, he had no interest in marriage. Not now, not ever.

"We only have one more we would like you to look at," his mother said. "Please."

Akira sighed, pulled all of his frustration deep inside, and vowed to master his wavering restraint. His mother rarely asked for much for him, and he'd long suspected it was at her urgings that his father participated in this continual play and response. For his mother, he could have patience.

He opened the folder.

Akira's father played strong and steady hands. His stones built up like walls, like spreading snake fortresses. Akira's mother didn't play go, but if she did, Akira imagined her stones would be a dance, a back and forth that so distracted her opponent that he wouldn't notice until the last moment his vanishing liberties. He would only know at the moment he was placed in atari.

Akira stared down at a very, very familiar picture and said, voice shaking only a little, "And did this prospect actually agree to an o-miai?"

His mother let loose her smile, and it was gentle, so very gentle, and completely accepting. "No, but I'm sure he would say yes if you asked him."

Akira choked down his first three responses and turned to his father. "And you're alright with this?"

His father, as always, was strong, steady. "I think this might be your best prospect yet."

Akira closed the folder and found himself smiling. Even if this hope burned, even if this was technically a defeat—

Akira had never been more glad to resign a game. He bowed to his mother, his father, and they smiled back.

"Enjoy your game this afternoon," his mother said.

—

Shindou was more than happy to change their meeting place to his apartment, Akira's cell phone informed him. Then, immediately after that message, "Is everything alright??"

Akira smiled at the urgency Shindou could manage in a single text message and replied that everything was fine, that he was looking forward to besting Shindou again.

Shindou sent back, "That last game did not count, you are not allowed to play me after Ochi and his stupid, stupid taunts. &gt;:("

Akira felt his smile widen, because really, there were some things he should have noticed sooner. Ochi and Shindou weren't exactly the masters of secrecy. Both would hush up whenever Ochi was teasing and stare at Akira if he ventured near, though he'd seen Waya do the same and simply join in. Shindou wouldn't talk about it to Akira and would simply turn a bright red. Shindou was always touching Akira, and okay, he touched everyone, because he was Shindou, but—

But it felt different. Shindou's smile was different. Shindou had never accepted twenty-seven scarves and a pair of gloves from Waya or Isumi. He had never half-carried either of them home from a night of drinking under the cherry trees. This game, this game with Shindou, had yet to play out. Akira only had one liberty, but he was absolutely certain that the only move left him was the right one.

He closed his eyes, imagined Shindou's smile, and knew, as he could estimate komi from a brief glance, that he'd already won.


End file.
